


je ne rêve pas d'toucher le pactole

by almostprimary



Series: c'est plus fort que moi [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Third Gym (Haikyuu!!), Training Camp, Underage Drinking, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostprimary/pseuds/almostprimary
Summary: He would be lying if Tsukishima Kei said that he was surprised to see Kuroo smoking a cigarette. He wouldn’t be lying if Kei said that he was surprised to see Kuroo smoking a cigarette outside a school gymnasium at four in the morning.'I would offer you one,' Kuroo says. 'But it’s really not worth the buzz.''And you’re an asshole,' Kei adds.'And I’m an asshole.'





	1. melatonin and bokuto koutarou

**Author's Note:**

> read my other story 'soudain ces vampes chantent' for context.  
> title from 'je cours' by stromae.

Some days, Tsukishima Kei regrets joining the volleyball club. Dragging his feet along the sidewalk as the sun rises listening to Yamaguchi chirp in his ear, Kei regrets handing in the club application. Dodging handshakes and hugs from Hinata, waking up to see his sore forearms littered with purple bruises, listening to Daichi chastise Tanaka and Nishinoya _every_ day.

Driving to the train station in a bus, reviving antiquated bonds with a rival team; Kei is feeling a little bit jumpy, a little bit excited.

The practice games don’t seem to end, the moon begins to rise. Hinata and Kageyama shout insults at each other, Kei wants to go home.

The captain of Nekoma says that Kei should enjoy his youth. The sun catches in the captain’s eyes, lighting them up to be almost hazel. Kei allows himself to admire the captain’s allure for a second. The excitement returns.

Someone collapses across the gym. There’s sinking feeling in Kei’s abdomen. Regret floods his mind again.

The days of regret extend. The air grows more humid and the sun shines brighter. Bugs nip at Kei’s ankles as he walks home from practice every night. He contemplates quitting the club.

But, Yamaguchi still has anxieties about being alone with unfamiliar faces. Sticking around for a few more weeks is the least he can offer to Yamaguchi. Kei knows how difficult maintaining a friendship with himself must be.

Soon, it’s summer and Kei finds himself at a training camp in Tokyo for a weekend. The skin on his arms is irritated and red from countless penalties. At least the handsome Nekoma captain is there. Kei knows that his name is Kuroo, he learned this soon after Hinata bragged that he exchanged phone numbers with the Nekoma setter. It seems unfitting, too intimate to refer to him by his name when the captain probably doesn’t remember Kei’s own position on the court.

Contemplating asking Kuroo for his phone number, Kei chuckles. Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow as they load their luggage onto the bus.

Sure, Kuroo is attractive. But, Kei is satisfied with sneaking glances in the captain’s direction. Not to mention how ‘out of character’ it would be.

'Hey, you, middle blocker with the glasses.'

Kei blinks, turning his head to see a handsome captain grinning. Interesting, Kei thinks. Kuroo does know his position.

'It’s Tsukishima,' he replies. 'Tsukishima Kei.'

He feels every one of his teammate’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

 

**Kuroo [9:37]**

Worst school subject?

**Me [9:38]**

Art.

'You’re pining.' Yamaguchi says.

Kei clicks his tongue. He wishes nothing more in than to dismiss his friend with minimal complications. Kei learned at age six that no matter how of your neighbours’ lawns you infest with yellow dandelion _fuckers_ ; wishes have no guarantee to come true.

'You’re re-watching Death Note again, aren't you?'

'C’mon, Tsukki,' he insists. 'Just tell me who you’ve been texting.'

Kei clears his throat deciding to focus his gaze on his lunchbox.

'Holy shit,' Yamaguchi says. 'It’s Kuroo-san.'

_'Shut up, Yamaguchi.'_

 

**Kuroo [12:02]**

Tea?

**Me [12:09]**

Only iced. Favourite colour?

**Kuroo [12:09]**

Blue

 

The biggest inconvenience of Kei, overflowing with altruism and loyalties to his team is not even the physical exhaustion. It is the constant strain placed on Kei’s finely-tuned acumen. The yelling, the unnecessary crying and Shimizu’s entire presence.

When Kei is dismissed for the night, he does not plan on spending more time with his exasperating teammates. He plans on taking a bath, counting the number of melatonin left in his bottle and possibly meditating.

This plan is, of course, hindered when he hears someone call 'HEY, TSUKKI.'

Kei wonders if he should keep walking. He might have if he hadn’t felt the need to find out who was _abusing_ the nickname.

Instead, he wills his feet to stop walking and he turns his head towards the gymnasium doors.

Kei might have started walking again if it had been anyone else besides a certain handsome captain calling his name. Nevertheless, Kei is somewhat of a masochist who lacks the ability to say ‘no’ to anyone.

When Kuroo asks him to jump a few blocks, Kei knows that it’s more likely that he’ll end up in that gym than not.

When Kuroo bites his lip for half of a second and _grins_ , Kei knows that his fate is sealed. Still, Kei can have his wishes and dreams.

'Sorry,' Kei offers. 'But, I’m done for the night.'

The problem is, Kei is always right. As conceited as he sounds, it’s true. No one will ever be able to tell him _‘I know you better than you know yourself’_ because _no one_ knows Kei as well as himself.

Which isn’t actually much of a problem because now he has the privilege of bragging to Hinata and Kageyama about his practice partners of the night. Also, he’s spending the next while with a certain captain. Realizing that both may lead to more arguing and _regret_. On second thought, maybe it is a problem.

Bokuto’s spikes are also apparently _god tier_ because Kei has only touched _two_ of them and he is ready to surrender. This doesn’t say a lot, Kei is never truly motivated in volleyball. But 0damn he feels pathetic right now.

As Kei doubles over in an attempt to catch his breath, he wonders if it’s too late for meditation.

'Congrats, you won against all of one blocker,' Akaashi tells Bokuto. His tone is dry and unwavering, though that could be his way of making a joke.

'How about two blockers?' Kuroo asks, clapping his hands together and ducking under to Kei’s side of the net.

Kei raises an eyebrow, he tilts his head back and spots the lanky kid from Nekoma sprawled across the ground. A part of Kei pities him, while another part envies him.

'I think Lev has had enough for now,' Kuroo shrugs. His bottom lip juts out a little bit, almost in a pout.

Kei rolls his eyes. Sure, Kuroo was more than easy on the eyes, but that didn’t fix his (rather annoying and persistent) personality.

'My knight in shining armour,' Kei says.

'Just make sure to keep that straight in check.'

Kei does. He mimics the way Kuroo positions his broad shoulders and jumps. It’s all redundant, though. Bokuto’s eyes dart to the right and Kei knows that it’s going to be a cross. Kuroo notices too, repositioning his arms to shut the ball out completely.

'Your blocks are pretty weak,' Bokuto says.

Akaashi shifts behind him, fixing a glare on the ace that makes Kei bristle a little bit too.

'I’m still a growing boy,' Kei snaps back, rising to his full 188 centimetres of height.

Bokuto flinches slightly, then proceeds to scowl in recoil. Kei prospers in his victory for a full half second before handsome captain decides to open up his mouth again.

'You’ll lose to the shrimpy middle blocker if you talk like that, Tsukki.'

Now, here’s the thing. When Kei handed in his ‘Boy’s Volleyball Club’ application, he committed to playing volleyball.

Kei did not commit to handsome captains, vexatious teammates or having his sports drink replaced with salt water. Nonetheless, Kei received all three onera at some point in the past three months.

Kei would not like to add ‘hatred from powerhouse schools in Tokyo’ to the list, nor does he plan to. So, Kei rubs the nape of his neck and smiles politely. 'I think it’s imminent that Hinata will surpass me. He’s got so much natural talent, it doesn’t matter how much effort I contribute.'

At this moment, God decided to offer reconciliation. This might have come in the form of other Nekoma players filing into the gym, but Kei will accept any excuse to leave at this point.

'On that note,' he says. 'I’ll be taking my leave.'

Everyone kind of stands there in a haze for a moment, watching Kei exit the gym. It was kind of distressing, feeling all three sets of eyes on his back as he walks away. Kei feels the back of his neck start to burn. He manages to get a full three steps outside before being _harassed_ again.

'Wait up, Tsukishima.'  
Kei wonders if every handsome captain was so bothersome. The only other one who fit the ‘handsome captain’ criteria was Oikawa from Aoba Johsai. He seemed annoying enough. Maybe it wasn't Kuroo's fault, maybe being a complete annoyance is part of the job.

'What is it, Kuroo-san?' he asks.  
What Kei expected: another taunt, another jest at his volleyball skills or lack of loyalty to the sport.  
What Kei received: an apology, a slap on the arm and a blush.

  
'When we get back to Miyagi, you’re buying me another bottle of melatonin,' Kei tells Yamaguchi that night. 'And you’re helping me count them.'

Yamaguchi chuckles and looks a little bit confused, but he agrees anyway.

**Me [2:57]**

Why do you try so hard?

 

Somehow, Kei finesses his way out of blocking practice on the second day of training camp. He thinks that it’s God's way of saying ‘Sorry for every one of your misfortunes and also Bokuto Koutarou.' This is what happened:

Bokuto yells, 'Tsukishima-kun, do you mind jumping a few more blocks for us tonight?'

Kei declines the invitation. (Very politely, may he add. His voice doesn’t waver once.)

Somehow, Bokuto’s simpleton mind concludes that: a good way to persuade Kei would be by yelling louder.

'C’MON, TSUKKI,' he bellows, as if he were some kind of chanteuse. 'ONLY A FEW, I PROMISE.'

This is the part where Kei’s body tenses and his breath catches in his throat. This is the part where his pulse spikes and he becomes very hyper-aware of every person in the room. Every set of eyes looking at him.

'Don’t worry, Bo,' a voice chimes in. 'Yaku and Kai volunteered to train Lev tonight. I’ll be there to shut you out.'

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Kei practices breathing, a task that can be even more burdensome than volleyball at times.

Bokuto smiles and _skips_ away. He _skips_ , like a five-year-old girl in a _tutu_. Everyone in the gym shrugs, returning to their own conversations.

'You should go to bed,' Kuroo says. 'It’s not safe to do this much physical activity on, like, three hours of sleep.'

'Thanks, Mom.'  
'I’m worried about you, don’t act like a brat.'

'Honestly,' Kei says, pouring every ounce of sincerity that he has into the two words, 'Thank you.'

It must be a shock because Kuroo has a very ambiguous expression on his face now. Kei allows himself to admire it for a full second, before bowing slightly and taking his leave.

 

**Kuroo [10:23]**

If you stay up until ass o’clock in the morning again,

I’m blocking your number

**Me [10:28]**

It would be my pleasure.

 

The thing about being friends with Yamaguchi is that he’s _Yamaguchi_. He’s kind and sometimes timid, definitely a pacifist at first glance. But when you know Yamaguchi and when he’s been around so long that he could have inside jokes with your _dog_ , it’s a completely different story.

Yamaguchi holds eye contact for a second longer than necessary _every_ _time_ their eyes meet that day. Kei knows that he should be bracing himself.

Even though Kei has time to prepare for the wrath that will be unleashed upon him, he doesn’t particularly look forward to it. He still tries head back to the sleeping quarters as fast as he can, muttering a prayer under his breath.

'TSUKKI,' Yamaguchi is yelling, as he approaches at a very fast speed.

'What?'

'YOU’RE BEING LAME,' Yamaguchi says.

Yamaguchi also says some things about Kei’s potential and that ‘You _can_ beat Hinata if you try’. Yamaguchi must have forgotten, but, Kei is always right. Kei knows that he can’t beat Hinata because he doesn't possess have the same ‘burning passion’ or insane physical abilities.

' _Why_ do you tell yourself that you _can’t_ get _any_ better?' Yamaguchi asks.

Kei has to fight the laugh that bubbles in his throat. The entire situation was so ridiculous that it kind of makes Kei want to throw up and laugh at the same time.

'Chill out with the italics,' Kei sighs. 'Even if I became the best player in Miyagi, even if I lead our team to nationals, there’s always going to be someone better. No matter how hard you try, you’re never going to be number one. Why would you keep trying?'

Yamaguchi is fuming now. This is alarming to Kei. Mainly because the last time Yamaguchi looked this mad, it resulted in Kei being _dragged_ by the foot out of his bedroom.

Kei realizes that this might be even worse because Yamaguchi is grabbing the collar of Kei’s shirt and _scowling_.

There’s no tears, no shaking hands or voice cracks when Yamaguchi yells, 'WHAT DO YOU NEED BESIDES PRIDE?'

It's almost impressive, how mad his friend is right now. In their years of friendship, Yamaguchi has never looked this _pissed_ off before, especially at Kei.

Kei might have complimented him, said, 'Wow, when did you become so cool?" Has it not been for the laugh that works it’s way up Kei’s throat and out of his mouth. It’s not as menacing as intended, but it’s still impressive enough considering the tears streaming down his face.

'I don’t know, Yamaguchi,' Kei snarls. 'Why don’t you ask Akiteru, maybe?'

Kei spins on his heel and takes a few steps away, desperate to get away before he actually throws up.

'Tsukki, wait-'  
'I’m gonna go ask something.'

 

'I genuinely don’t understand how everyone can be so determined,' Kei says. 'It’s just a club.  
Immediately, Bokuto and Kuroo launch into a conversation that can kill the brain cells of everyone around them. Personally, Kei didn’t know Bokuto all that well. Though, Kei probably should have suspected some kind of idiocy as it concerns Kuroo.

'SAY, FOUR-EYES,' Bokuto yells.

'It’s Tsukishima-'

'DO YOU THINK THAT VOLLEYBALL IS FUN?'

Shrugging, Kei replies, 'No, not really.'

The harsh reality is, Kei joined the volleyball club mostly out of obligation. It’s out of obligation that he hasn’t quit yet either.

'That’s probably because you suck.'

'You don’t have to tell me that,' Kei says, a pathetic attempt at a joke.

Luckily, Bokuto doesn’t supply a motivational speech or advice to work harder. Bokuto’s moral of the story: you need a moment of ethical significance to truly enjoy volleyball. Of course, Bokuto said this in a much simpler way, using preschool level vocabulary. However, Kei is the kind of person who prides himself on his high literature mark.

Bokuto is the kind of person to pride himself on his strong sense of equality and justice.  
Such as, when he claps Kei on the back and says, 'I’ve answered your question, now help with blocking. It’s a fair trade, huh?'

Kei reminds himself that if he has the option to make a deal with the _devil_ or Bokuto Koutarou, choose the devil. At least there’s a guarantee of fulfillment for his own wishes.

Only a few hours later, Kei is already abjuring his earlier statement. The clock on the wall reads 3:37. If Kei were to negotiate with the devil, trading his virtue for a few hours of sleep would be a burden. On the other hand, Bokuto Koutarou was easily accessible _and_ could probably knock Kei out for a while with his XXL biceps. If Kei was comatose, he wouldn’t have to repay his debt for a long time. The only issue is that Bokuto will probably demand something even more ludicrous than Kei’s virtue. Like his friendship or his headphones.

During this 'deep and meaningful analysis, Kei manages to subconsciously exit the sleeping quarters, the school building and walk all the way to the third gym. It’s a miracle that no one caught him, Kei’s footsteps aren’t exactly buoyant.

The air is humid and there are only a few lamps to light up the area.  
Something warm but astringent catches Kei’s nose.

He would be lying if Tsukishima Kei said that he is surprised to see Kuroo smoking a cigarette. He _wouldn’t_ be lying if Kei said that he is surprised to see Kuroo smoking a cigarette outside a school gymnasium at four in the morning.

Instead of attempting to scold or coddle the other boy, Kei decides to bury his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and sit beside Kuroo on the concrete ground.

'I would offer you one,' Kuroo says. 'But it’s really not worth the buzz.'

' _And_ you’re an asshole,' Kei adds.

' _And_ I’m an asshole.'

Kuroo takes another drag of the cigarette, coughing a few times as he exhales. Kei hides a snicker in his hand.

'Do you come here often?' Kuroo asks.

Kei rolls his eyes. 'I was looking for Bokuto.'

Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

'I wanted to make a deal with him.'

'That, also, is not worth the buzz.'

'Probably,' Kei agrees.

'What was the deal?'

'I was going to ask him to knock me into a coma in return for my headphones.'

'Beats?'  
'Sony.'  
Kuroo chuckles. 'Totally not worth it.'

‘So,’ Kei says, after a pause. ‘Why are you…’

‘Have you ever considered,’ Kuroo asks, grinning. ‘That this might all be an elaborate ploy so you’ll go on a date with me?’

‘You even worked in the chronic insomnia? Impressive,’ Kei says. ‘It might actually get me to consider that date.’

Something flashes in Kuroo’s eyes for a second, but it’s replaced with _faux_ malice soon enough. They’re silent for a minute, listening to nothing except the sound of Kuroo’s exhaling.

‘Why were you crying?’ Kuroo asks, tapping the ashes of his cigarette onto the ground. ‘Today, when you came into the gym to ask about volleyball.’

Here’s the thing. Kuroo is handsome, Kuroo is kind and Kuroo definitely has some emotional baggage of his own. But, Kei has only known Kuroo for around one month. Asking something like that, it’s Yamaguchi’s territory. (Maybe Sugawara’s territory too; the kid probably volunteers to provide therapy for orphaned puppies in his free time.)

‘Why are you smoking alone in the middle of the night?’ Kei snaps back.

‘Sorry,’ Kuroo says, sighing and grinding his cigarette into the ground. ‘I’m an asshole.’

‘You’re an asshole,’ Kei echoes quietly.

There’s more silence after that. Kuroo flicks his lighter, Kei buries his head in his arms.

‘I’m making a bad decision,’ Kuroo says.

Kei hums in acknowledgement.

‘Have you ever done something out of obligation?’

Kei hums again, exhaustion starting to impeach his ability to speak.

‘Everything is gonna go to hell,’ Kuroo says. ‘But I also don’t plan on doing anything about it.’

‘Our entire existence is futile,’ Kei yawns. ‘Our only reality is like, dubstep.’

Kuroo stands up, offers a hand to Kei. ‘I’ll walk you back to your room?’

‘What a gentleman.’

 

**Kuroo [10:00]**

So, you’re telling me that

Karasuno’s alternate

uniforms are

orange

**Me [10:01]**

Yes.

**Kuroo [10:01]**

I’d like to see your legs in orange shorts

**Me [10:01]**

You would like to see my legs in _any_ shorts.

**Kuroo [10:02]**

Well, you’re not wrong

**Me [10:02]**

I hate my life.

**Kuroo [10:02]**

Hey, hey Tsukki

Name three things about life that are good

**Me [10:03]**

Iced tea,

my modern literature mark

and the inevitability of death.

**Me _[Saved as draft]_**

You.

**Kuroo [10:03]**

That last one could use some work


	2. rich kids and cheap tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s someone squeezing his shoulder and calling out ‘Tsukki.’ quite repetitively.  
> Kei would assume that it was Yamaguchi, but Yamaguchi doesn’t smell like nicotine and coffee, last time he checked.  
> ‘Kuroo-san,’ Kei says. ‘What the fuck.’

  
The volleyball rebounded off of his fingers and back onto the other side of the court. Ushijima looked mostly unphased, turning his back to the net with nothing more than a frown.  
Kei, on the other hand, felt like he could finally breathe. He felt like he could indulge himself in volleyball and win. Meeting Nekoma at the national stage, watching Kuroo wink and bite his lip from across the net, wasn’t just a fleeting dream.  
After the initial euphoria wore off, Kei experienced one of those ‘Look, dad, no hands’ moments. His eyes started to wander towards the audience, seeking salt and pepper streaked hair. Kei stops himself though, realizing that if Bokuto were here (which he isn’t) the moment would _not_ end in a fatherly handshake and ruffled hair. Not that Kei wanted that, the mere thought of physical contact Bokuto Koutarou was enough to make his body bristle.

The unfortunate thing is, the volleyball _rebounded_ off of his fingers. Kei _felt_ euphoric and motivated and ready to fight.  
Now, Kei’s fingers are sprained, his muscles are shaking and Kei _knows_ that they’re going to lose.  
Kei closes in on another one of number eight’s straights. ‘ONE TOUCH.’  
He bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from screaming out in pain.  
His feet touch the ground again.  
Because all the forces of the universe are against Kei, his right foot lands in a puddle of sweat. The actual impact isn’t as startling as the fall itself- the extra second of unanticipated motion. Kei’s left leg folds underneath him as his right one slides out in front. The ball lands outside of the court. Another point to Shiratorizawa. Kei’s eyes flutter shut.  
If Karasuno doesn’t win this set, it’s over. No nationals, no Nekoma. Kei probably won’t make eye contact with Kuroo ever again. Quite frankly, the thought of losing Kuroo terrifies him.  
He contemplates it for a while, but Kei doesn’t stand up.  
The entire idea was ridiculous in the first place, winning against a top three ace. Karasuno could barely defeat Oikawa, who has been losing to Ushijima for six years.  
Their defeat was inevitable.  
Kei peeks open an eye and only then does he realize, that the game has been stopped.  
There’s someone squeezing his shoulder and calling out ‘Tsukki.’ quite repetitively.  
Kei would assume that it was Yamaguchi, but Yamaguchi doesn’t smell like nicotine and coffee, last time he checked.  
‘Kuroo-san,’ Kei says. ‘What the fuck.’  
The line between Kuroo’s eyebrows unwrinkles quickly. ‘C’mon, princess,’ he grins, offering a hand.  
Kei grabs it.  
Kei rises to his feet.  
Staring at Kuroo, staring at the hand that touched him. His hand _touched_ Kuroo. Kuroo was _here_.  
Turning to Asahi, Kei asks, ‘Are you seeing this?’  
The ace nods, looking more like scared deer than a delinquent as Kei narrows his eyes.  
‘Okay,’ Kei says, after a pause. ‘Okay, I’m fine.’  
The paramedics disperse a few minutes later. Kuroo grins and pulls Kei into his arms briefly.  
‘You’ve got this,’ he whispers, before stalking back up to the viewing stands.  
Shimizu approaches with athletic tape. Kei prays that she doesn’t notice the purple swelling of the sprain. If she does, the subject is left unmentioned.  
In retrospect, Kuroo coming to watch the finals wasn’t the craziest thing that could have happened. What really Fucked Kei Up was the whole brevity and casualness of their exchange.  
Kageyama is staring at Kei like he wants to say something.  
‘What is it?’ Kei asks, tilting his chin up and frowning.  
Kageyama doesn’t meet his eyes, he’s too focused on something in the audience.  
‘Uh-’ Kageyama says.  
Kei turns around to follow his gaze. Fourth row back, the block of seats to the right of Karasuno’s cheering group. Bokuto is waving maniacally. Akaashi is pinching the bridge of his nose.  
Hinata notices at this point too, tugging on Kageyama’s sleeve and whispering (yelling) ‘BOKUTO-SAN IS HERE. THE ACE OF FUKURODANI IS WATCHING OUR GAME.’  
At this point, Shiratorizawa is glaring at them like they’re so most preposterous team to have stepped foot onto a volleyball court. It’s a very justifiable opinion, too. The referee looks anxious to start the game again.  
Daichi claps his hands together. ‘Today is full of surprises,’ he says, looking at Kei pointedly. ‘Especially you.’  
The burning on his face is from the non-stop physical activity. He’s not blushing.  
‘Let’s not disappoint our fans now,’ Daichi says. The team cheers back, louder and more vicious than before.  
They move into position. Kei cracks his knuckles. Bokuto shouts his name from the stands. The whistle blows. Kageyama serves the ball. The rally begins.  
Except, it’s different. Bokuto and Akaashi and _Kuroo_ are watching. Though Kei would never admit it, he wants to make them proud. Fuck, if Kei wanted to win before, now he wants to destroy Shiratorizawa.

 

 

* * *

 

 

And they do.  
Okay, maybe, they didn’t destroy Ushijima and the entire team of Shiratorizawa.  
But, they _won_.  
His muscles are shaking violently and Kuroo nearly bowls him to the ground. Kei has to grip onto the back of Kuroo’s jacket to prevent himself from falling.  
Bokuto and Akaashi wrap their arms around him a moment later, but Kei is only holding Kuroo’s waist. He’s worn from playing five full sets against Shiratorizawa. The close proximity to Kuroo isn’t helping calm his racing pulse, but he holds on tight.  
‘I’m- very very sweaty,’ Kei manages through the four-person hug.  
Tears prick at his eyes but Kei refuses to let them out.  
It’s suffocating and warm and uncomfortable- but Kei has never felt so serene.  
Hinata tackles both Akaashi and Bokuto in a hug, leaving Kei wondering how he managed to do that. With the- short arms and all.  
‘I knew you could do it,’ Kuroo whispers into his ear. ‘I’m so proud, Tsukki, I’m so happy.’  
Kei lets the tears go. He sobs into Kuroo’s shoulder, grip tightening around his waist.  
‘Thank you,’ he says, voice choked and muffled.  
Kuroo worked so hard to help Kei, to help the entire team. As every bit cliche and pathetic as it is, Kei owes this all to Kuroo. Kuroo taught Kei how to block. Kuroo helped Kei see his own potential. Kuroo stayed up with Kei on the countless late nights leading up to this tournament, teasing and talking and _encouraging_.  
God, Kei wants to kiss him.  
‘Later,’ Kuroo whispers in his ear.  
Kei unwraps his arms from around the other boy. ‘I said that out loud.’  
Kuroo laughs, but it’s weak and tentative. His eyes dart around the court, scanning the other Karasuno players.  
Kuroo nudges his elbow. ‘Go lineup now, Tsukki,’ he says.  
‘Are you blushing?’ Kei asks, but he can’t even look smug. He’s smiling too much.

‘A party?’ Kei asks, raising an eyebrow.  
‘It’s not a party,’ Akaashi sighs, casting a wary glance at Kuroo. ‘We want to buy you dinner tonight, to congratulate you.’  
Bokuto leans towards Kei, who recoils instinctively. ‘Kuroo has tequila in the hotel room,’ the ace whispers giddily.  
‘Yes,’ Akaashi says, rubbing his temples. ‘There’s that, too.’  
‘Whaddya say, Tsukki?’ Kuroo asks, slinging an arm around Kei. He shrugs it off immediately.  
The problem isn’t that Kei doesn’t know how to tell others ‘no’. It isn’t that Kuroo knows this and Kuroo is exploiting this. The problem is that Kei has no issues with _being_ taken advantage of and treated to dinner. The problem is the electrifying buzz in Kei’s chest since Kuroo’s promised kiss. The problem is that Kei has to use every ounce of self-restraint in his body to wait for ‘Later’.  
‘I mean, you’re not giving me too much of an option here,’ Kei says.  
‘GREAT,’ Bokuto grins. ‘WE’LL PICK YOU UP AT SEVEN, OKAY?’  
Akaashi ruffles his loose blond curls. ‘Congratulations again, Tsukishima.’  
Kei decides that Akaashi must either be a complete masochist or have a ridiculous amount of patience. He’s a veteran, hardened by the countless days spent with Bokuto. Either way, Akaashi Keiji is a very dangerous person.  
Watching the duo walk out of the building, Kei feels like he should be saluting. Showing his respect for Akaashi and praying for a successful mission ahead.  
‘I met your brother,’ Kuroo says.  
‘Sorry,’ Kei replies immediately. ‘If he did anything to offend you.’  
Kuroo narrows his eyes and stares at Kei, calculating and politic.  
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’  
‘Okay.’  
‘I am proud of you, Tsukki.’ Kuroo says, raising an arm to run it through Kei’s hair.  
Kei swallows and pushes the arm away, hands shaking slightly.  
‘Thanks.’

**Me [4:46]**  
If my mom asks, I’m sleeping at yours tonight.

**Yamaguchi [4:58]**  
Why??

In Kei’s seasoned sixteen years of living, making mistakes has never been his most dominant issue. That was, before Kuroo Tetsurou.  
As Kei climbs into the backseat of a blue Prius, he decides that making mistakes is probably his most dominant issue.  
Kuroo is sitting beside him, longs legs looking cramped. Akaashi is in the passenger seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. This can only mean one thing.  
‘Hey, Tsukki!’ Bokuto greets from _behind_ the steering wheel.  
‘Fuck this,’ Kei says, opening the side door again.  
On Kei’s List of Good Ideas ‘getting into a car with Bokuto Koutarou’ sat around place sixty-seven, right below ‘setting my dick on fire.’ Though, it was implied when Akaashi said that they would be driving in a car; being Bokuto was the only one who was eighteen, and therefore eligible to have a driver’s license.  
Kuroo reaches in front of him and slams the door shut, lips twisting into a feline smile.  
‘You’re going to have to try harder than that,’ he says.  
‘Don’t mind, don’t mind,’ Bokuto says.  
‘I’m sorry,’ Akaashi says.

Kei finds solace in the fact that the aux cord is plugged into Akaashi’s phone. No offence to Bokuto, but he’s the kind of person who listens to the crazy frog theme song to wake up in the morning.  
‘Arctic Monkeys?’ Kei asks.  
Akaashi nods courtly before continuing to offer directions and chastise Bokuto for his perilous driving habits. Kei almost feels pity for the man, being berated every time his hands slip from ten and two.  
‘He’s so whipped,’ Kuroo leans over and whispers, the warmth from his breath grazing Kei’s earlobe.  
Goosebumps rise on the back of his neck.  
‘He’s not the only one, Kuroo-san,’ Akaashi scoffs.  
Sitting straight up immediately, Kuroo shakes his head. ‘C’mon, Akaashi. Not now.’  
Kei raises an eyebrow at the setter.  
‘Tonight is to celebrate Tsukki’s victory!” Kuroo chirps. He’s facing the window now, watching acres of farm fields flash in front of his eyes.  
‘Of course,’ Akaashi says curtly.  
There’s a pause, a gap in the conversation. Kei marvels at the obscure conversation just exchanged in front of him. Bokuto seems to be addled about the surreptitious message, too.  
Instead, the ace laughs loudly, relieving tension from the atmosphere. ‘DON’T THINK THAT WE’LL GO EASY ON YOU IN THE FINALS EITHER, KUROO. NEKOMA ISN’T THE ONLY ONES WHO WANT TO PLAY KARASUNO AT NATIONALS.’  
‘If only there was a way for three teams to play at once,’ Kei says dryly.  
Kuroo and Bokuto lock eyes via the rear-view mirror.  
Kei opens his mouth in protest.  
Akaashi presses on his temples.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t let me foot my bill,’ Kei tells Kuroo, crossing his arms and frowning.  
Kuroo is shrugging back facing Kei as he pours more tequila into a plastic red cup. When he turns around, Kei can see that he’s completely beaming.  
‘More tequila?’ Kuroo offers. Kei can hear the smile in his voice.  
Kei takes the cup silently, eyes moving to linger on Kuroo’s lips. ‘Is it later yet?’ he whispers.  
Kuroo’s eyes widen slightly at the heavy implications.  
‘It’s only fair that we pay for you, Tsukishima,’ Akaashi says.  
‘YEAH,’ Bokuto says. ‘IT’S NOT LIKE ME AND AKAASHI CAN’T AFFORD IT.’  
Akaashi glares and pinches his arm, causing the ace to yelp in pain.  
Many things click into place. The fancy academy, the new car, the expensive dinner and the five-star hotel. Bokuto and Akaashi are little rich boys.  
‘What a lightweight,’ Kuroo chuckles, in spite of the fact that his face was starting to flush from the alcohol he consumed.  
‘Hey, Bokuto-san,’ Kei says. A giggle escapes his lips. ‘Do you wake up and listen to the crazy frog theme song every morning?’  
Kuroo lets out a bark of laughter. ‘Holy shit, Tsukki.’  
‘YOU’RE HAMMERED,’ Bokuto says, who also seems to be taking the piss.  
Kei’s tongue feels swollen and heavy in his mouth. Swollen and heavy, but itching with questions.  
‘And _you_ ,’ he continues, poking Kuroo in the chest. ‘You are the most frustrating person I know. With your teasing and volleyball trash dump battle and handsome face and I just want to-’  
The rest of the words come out muffled because Kuroo has one hand clamped over Kei’s mouth.  
‘I think it’s time to cut him off,’ Akaashi says. His eyes are fixed on Kuroo, who is chewing his bottom lip and looking significantly more panicked than he was thirty seconds ago.  
He grabs Kei’s wrist and says, ‘Let’s go get you some water. From my room.’  
Kei trails after him, almost tripping over his own legs. ‘Wow,’ Kei says. ‘My feet are obnoxiously large.’  
A plastic water bottle is placed in his hands. ‘Drink up,’ Kuroo instructs.  
The problem isn’t even that Kei is growing impatient. It was twelve hours ago that Karasuno secured their spot on the national stage. Over twelve hours ago since Kuroo whispered ‘Later’ in his ear.  
The problem is, Kei hates asking questions. He tries to avoid it at all costs, if possible. Asking questions meant not understanding, uncertainty, danger.  
So, Kei doesn’t ask how much Kuroo had to drink when his rambling slurs together into incomprehensible words. He doesn’t ask anything when Ed Sheeran starts blasting through the speakers of Kuroo’s phone.  
Kuroo’s arms are coiling around Kei’s waist, warm and strong. Kei is wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s neck, being left with not many other options.  
‘We’re not dancing,’ Kei says.  
‘Okay,’ Kuroo replies, though he doesn’t budge from his position.

  
Instead, he leans in and presses his lips to Kei’s. 

 

It's so perfect, Kei pretends not to notice the tear that slides down Kuroo's face.


	3. akaashi keiji and bloody flower petals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm experiencing somewhat of a block right now;this wasreally rushed at the end!! sorry!!!

**Kuroo [9:24]**

Come outside in 10

Also tell your teammates that you might be gone for a while

 

**Me [9:26]**

I’ll be there.

 

‘When will you be back?’ Daichi asks.

‘A few hours, maybe. I just need to go clear my head.’

‘Don’t exhaust yourself even more. We have another big game tomorrow, Tsukishima.’ the captain says, waving a hand and retreating to his bed. 

On a normal day, Kei wouldn’t condone to Kuroo’s antics dexterously. But today, he’ll make an exception. The third day of the National Spring Interhigh had ended, bringing with it a conclusion to the first ever ‘battle at the trash heap.’ 

With these platitudes, Kei slips out the door of the hotel silently, walking a few buildings down before spotting the sapphire blue Prius. He can hear the soft humming of the radio’s bass, even from outside the car. 

Knowing that the front seat would be unoccupied, Kei swings open the door and sits down. 

‘Shouldn’t you be with your teammates?’ he asks, fingers roaming across the dashboard. ‘Also, doesn’t this damned car have seat warmers?’

Kuroo chuckles quietly and presses a button, lighting it up red. He twists the key in the ignition, waiting for the click of Kei’s seat belt before steering the car back onto the road. 

‘How many favours did you cash in to get your hands on Bokuto-san’s car?’ 

‘Only one,’ Kuroo grins, though it’s feeble. 

‘I’m sure you had a gun to his head, the poor man.’

‘Please,’ Kuroo snorts. ‘Akaashi has him whipped.’ 

‘So you went straight to the superintendent,’ Kei smirks. 

‘Only for you, babe,’ Kuroo replies, winking. 

The car slows and Kei decides to finally look out the front windshield, tearing his gaze away from Kuroo’s brooding eyes.

They’re at a hotel. Whether it’s the one Nekoma is staying at, Kei doesn’t dare ask.

Upon entering the room Kuroo leads them to, he realizes that this is very much the case. Shoes and shirts much too small to belong to Kuroo are scattered around the suite, not to mention the two single beds occupying the space. 

‘No one should be back for a few hours,’ Kuroo drones. It’s the first time he’s spoken since he parked the car. 

They both sit on the edge of the bed, thighs barely touching.

‘You played really well today,’ Kei says. His voice has switched to something quiet, something more sincere. 

Kuroo shrugs. He isn’t giving himself enough credit, he never does. 

‘You know,’ Kei says. ‘You’re the one who made this happen.’

Kuroo clenches his hand in his shirt over his heart. ‘I must be one hell of a masochist.’

There’s a heaviness in the atmosphere that Kei can’t handle. One that he hasn’t felt since he was pulled out of school because ‘there’s been an accident’ with his older brother. 

It’s strange because Karasuno  _ won _ their game, they  _ won _ and they  _ celebrated _ . Still, Kei feels like he’s twelve and sitting in his brother’s hospital room, biting his fingernails until they bleed. Defeated, nauseated, crushed. Really, what’s wrong with him?

‘I want more time with you,’ Kei says brashly. His heart jumps to his throat and tears pour out of his eyes as he endorses the words that left his mouth. ‘Playing on the same court as you, it’s the first thing I’ve looked forward to in like, three years. It was exhilarating, but I had fun, everyone did. We wouldn’t have without you. Neither teams could have made it there without you,’ Kei sniffles, wiping the final tears from his short-lived sob. 

Kuroo looks a little bit stunned, eyes wide and burning red at the ears. 

‘Thank you, Kuroo-san.’ 

Kuroo bursts into tears. 

And Kei has no idea what to do. He’s never been someone who touches, someone who hugs. At least not until Kuroo showed up. Now, an opportunity presents itself; an opportunity to learn. He awkwardly rubs his hand up and down Kuroo’s back, which for some insensible reason makes him shiver. 

‘You started it, Tsukki. Not my fault I’m an empathetic cryer,’ he sniffles. 

It probably takes no longer than three minutes for Kuroo to pull himself together. But, it feels like so much longer, listening to Kuroo’s intermittent breathing. 

Kei is the one rendered breathless next as Kuroo brings a hand up to cup his face, bringing their lips together in a kiss. It’s chaste at first, slow and kind of depressing. The kiss tastes like acid and wax candles. 

Placing a hand on Kuroo’s chest and pulling back, Kei says, ‘You should be with your teammates right now.’ 

‘Not right now,’ Kuroo replies with lidded eyes, leaning in to kiss Kei’s mouth again. 

Kei’s laying on his back now, lips moving faster, kisses becoming more sloppy, the air in the room heating up. Kuroo straddles Kei and shrugs out of his jacket as Kei runs his hands under his shirt, long fingers tracing his firm muscle.

Both shirts are discarded on the floor soon, lips wandering down further past Kei’s collarbone. 

Pulses rising, hands roaming, muffled sighs of pleasure filling the (rather dreary) silence. 

Kuroo’s fingers trace the waistband of Kei’s boxers.

‘Wait,’ he pants, ignoring the heat in his pants.

Kuroo’s hand freezes. 

Despite how much he  _ wants _ this, (He really does want Kuroo to continue.) Kei tells him to wait. Kuroo is emotional right now, vulnerable to the crudity of reality. Going any further would be wrong, it would be malicious. 

It must true that God hates Kei, putting him in this situation when God  _ knows _ that he’s going to be a  _ decent _ person. 

‘I should probably leave,’ Kei says, words contradicting the requisite in his voice. ‘Another big game tomorrow.’

Kuroo trails his fingers back up Kei’s body, palms resting on his torso. Warm, reliable. 

Kei brings his eyes to meet Kuroo’s gaze, immediately feeling more confident in his decision. Kuroo looks  _ despondent _ , completely dead inside. Miserable. 

And it makes Kei’s heart wrench and his stomach flip in something like  _ compassion _ . Disgusting, really. 

‘Just,’ Kuroo says, voice shaking and eyes watering. ‘Just kiss me again.’

And it sounds like a plea for help. Kei should probably ask what’s on Kuroo’s mind, but Tsukishima Kei doesn’t ask questions. Especially in situations like these. Kuroo has been courteous enough not to pry about Kei’s deepest secrets, it’s a service that should be repaid. 

Instead, Kei keeps his mouth shut and kisses him, lifting his head to meet Kuroo’s lips halfway. 

 

**Me [12:09]**

Driving to Tokyo for training camp. 

The first years are almost as ecstatic as Hinata.

**Kuroo [12:13]**

Sad that me n Bo won’t be there to harass everyone

 

**Me: [12:13]**

I’m sure that Kozume will keep Lev on his toes.

_ Read: 12:13 am _

 

‘Extra practice,’ Akaashi says, grinning cheekily and winking seductively. He walks out of the gymnasium and Kei knows where to find him. 

Kei can’t help but chuckle, too. Bitter nostalgia rolls through his body in waves, images of unruly black hair flashing through his mind. He notices Kageyama gripping a volleyball in his hands, looking at Kei with desperate eyes. 

Hinata is nowhere in sight, probably with Yamaguchi catechizing the first-years with their veteran volleyball knowledge and skills. As much of a nuisance Hinata is, not offering him an invitation seems a little bit reprehensible. 

Kei pauses to look at Kageyama, who refuses to break eye contact. Chigaya from Shinzen is lingering beside the setter, looking expectantly between the two teammates. 

‘Fine,’ Kei says, letting his conscience get the better of him. ‘Gymnasium three.’

The middle blocker decides to run and fill his water bottle, deciding that he would need it with the humid air. He navigates towards the third gymnasium, already hearing the squeak of shoes as he approaches. It’s almost disgusting, Kei’s loyalty towards a club. 

Stepping onto the linoleum floor sent shivers down Kei’s spine. His hands twitch, his eyes dart to the players setting up the volleyball net. Akaashi is there, of course, talking quietly with Fukunaga, an unlikely friendship. This is because Kei has never seen Fukunaga Shouhei speak more than one-word sentences. Seeing him hold a conversation is astonishing in a unique way. Lev is making large hand gestures as Fukunaga and Kageyama nod in awe. 

Noticing the blond’s presence, Akaashi smirks. ‘Finally,’ he says. ‘Enough people for some three-on-three.’

Kei smirks back. He is excited to play volleyball. 

 

The thing isn’t even that the only reason Kei can enjoy the sport is because of Kuroo. The thing is, Kuroo is in university now, working towards a chemical engineering degree. The thing is, Kuroo doesn’t play volleyball at all. Kuroo isn’t here to see the result of his hard work and it’s making Kei feel undeniably guilty. 

He tells this to Akaashi after they wrap up extra practice, to which Akaashi only shakes his head and sighs. Akaashi suggests that they walk faster if they want to eat dinner, disregarding the confession from moments before. 

‘Sorry, by the way,’ Kei says. ‘You were kind of in second-year hell back there.’

The setter shakes his head again, smiling softly this time. ‘Not at all,’ he replies. ‘I spent all of last year around third-year boys. Being with people who I don’t need to treat like a  _ senpai _ , it’s incredibly refreshing.’

‘How is it?’ Kei asks. ‘Being captain. I mean, your fate was practically sealed once you made vice-captain in your second year.’

Akaashi intertwines his fingers behind his back, a habit that Kei himself possesses. (Whether he would ever admit to it, is debatable.) 

‘A little bit stressful,’ he admits. ‘Trying to be an individualist. Especially with Bokuto-san as my predecessor.’ 

‘We can’t all be a top-three-ace.’

Akaashi slows his pace, only by a fraction of a step slower. His eyes are scanning Kei’s face for any reaction, indicating that he was purposefully prolonging the walk.

‘I really do miss him,’ Akaashi says. ‘Kind of how you miss Kuroo-san.’

Kei’s lips twitch in irony. This is for two reasons. First, to the extent of Kei’s knowledge, Bokuto doesn’t frequently kiss Akaashi. (Not yet, at least.) So, Akaashi probably doesn’t miss Bokuto in the same way that Kei misses Kuroo. Second, Kei doesn’t really miss Kuroo all that much. Not enough to do something idiotic like transfer schools or skip class just to visit a boy. Long distance relationships are not very antagonizing when Kei isn’t sure that he has a relationship at all. It’s a hard question to ask, specifically when it’s _Kei_ asking someone with a loaded god complex and _an_ _enigma_. 

‘Sure,’ Kei shrugs, keeping his expression neutral. The other thing is, he isn’t exactly open about his sexuality. Kei isn’t stupid, kissing boys in public would make him dangerously vulnerable. Bonding with Akaashi Keiji over gay crises doesn’t sound like the most appealing way to start off training camp. 

Akaashi stops walking. Kei exhales deeply, attempting to calm his racing heart. 

‘Tsukishima-san.’

Kei’s fingernails dig into his palm. 

‘I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.’

Being the dangerous man he is, Akaashi never shows all of his cards. He knows  _ information _ , pertinent information about Kuroo. Finding it out would definitely prove to be a challenge. It was frustrating as hell, too. Kei respects Akaashi, for numerous reasons. Respect doesn’t mean immunity from Kei’s acrimony.

‘I appreciate the concern, Akaashi-san,’ he grits through his teeth. ‘But I’m not sure what you’re implying. What I think of Kuroo is none of your business, anyway. I can handle myself.’

Akaashi is silent for a few seconds, atmosphere as tense as it was heavy. 

‘I didn’t mean to overstep,’ he says finally, continuing his walk to the cafeteria for dinner. 

 

Being bath-partners with Yamaguchi has many perks. (Such as not having to be in the same vicinity as Kageyama or Hinata.) Sadly, to maintain an equal balance in the universe, being bath-partners with Yamaguchi has many drawbacks too. (Such as his inability to think ahead or bring more than a single towel for the both of them to the bath.)

Kei, being a fucking saint with glasses, volunteers to retrieve every other item needed from the sleeping quarters. This was his first mistake. 

Stepping into the room and seeing it almost empty save Hinata and Kozume whispering in the corner was probably worse than stepping into the room and seeing twelve clones of Nishinoya bouncing around. 

Honestly, Kei has no issues with Kozume Kenma himself. The only problem is that Kozume looks at Kei like he just announced that Christmas has been cancelled. It’s confusing and frustrating, seeing as Kei has never (intentionally) pissed off the setter. 

The second mistake was that Kei took his time shuffling through his luggage, looking for soap and another towel. This caused Hinata and Kozume to stop their conversation, staring at him warily from the corners of their eyes. If Kei truly, honestly loved himself; he would have grabbed his bag and ran out of the room. 

Because it’s been established that Kei is a masochist with authority issues, he does not run. Instead, he marches over to Kozume,  _ glares _ and asks, ‘Do you have some sort of problem with me?’

Kei isn’t sure why he does it. Maybe it’s dehydration or heat stroke. Maybe he’s still amped up from fighting with Akaashi. 

Either way, chaos ensues. Hinata jumps to his feet, arms flailing and mouth  _ yelling,  _ ‘TSUKISHIMAYOUCAN’TASKSOMEONETHATIT’SVERYRUDEANDKENMAHASNOPROBLEMWITHYOUHOWCOULDYOUASKTHAT.’

Meanwhile, Kozume is coughing  _ hard _ . The boy is wheezing and gasping for air like he’s underwater. Hinata notices this too, abandoning his screaming to pat the setter on the back gently. 

The coughing subsides quickly and Kozume is left with blood and flower petals in his hand.  _ Blood and fucking flower petals.  _ Hinata kind of gawks over Kozume, signifying that he was already aware that this might happen. 

It’s the weirdest situation Kei has ever been in. 

‘Sorry,’ Kei says quickly, already retracing his footsteps to the door. ‘That was very inappropriate of me.’

 

**Me [10:58]**

I need to talk to you about something.

 

**Kuroo [11:00]**

Is everything ok?

Just Skype me when you get back

 

_ ‘Coughing up flower petals and blood’  _ Kei types into his phone, curiosity dominating every other part of him advising  _ not _ to hit the search button. 

There aren’t many results that show up from the search, mainly medical studies and seedy-looking web-news sites.

Though, they all talked about only one disease.

Hanahaki. 

Kei decides to type that into the search bar instead, hoping to find some more reliable looking articles.

_ The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.  _

The phone falls from Kei’s trembling hands onto the floor. 

Shit. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/uncensoredblues)


End file.
